Plan
by Diary
Summary: Slash. None of this was what Percy wanted. Complete.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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When Percy was young, he read, "You can't plan love or life," and it struck him as one of the most absurd things he'd ever seen.

He was willing to concede life sometimes couldn't be precisely planned, especially during times of war or sweeping sickness, but of course, love could be planned. Assuming he lived to get his job at the ministry, he planned to marry a curly-haired witch with blue eyes, have two or three children (hopefully, it'd be one girl and one boy, but he understood only dark magic was capable of planning such things), and they'd go to one another parents' house every month. He'd be minister, and she'd either have some respectable job or be a housewife.

As he grew, he saw no reason his plans wouldn't come to fruition. He thought Penelope might be the wife in question, but when they amicably broke up, he wasn't too upset. Most people had a few breakups in their past, and there were plenty of curly-haired, blue-eyed witches to be found.

Then, fights with his family, an addiction to vodka, and a dead brother happened.

Oliver Wood sat down next to him in a bar, and even though Oliver had straight hair and brown eyes and made his living riding a broom, Percy went home with him. It wasn't supposed to turn into anything serious, something he was explicitly clear about. His plans had changed slightly, with him deciding to enter a field of justice independent of the ministry, but once he was established, he'd find his curly-haired, blue-eyed witch and get married. He wasn't sure about the children, anymore, but he imagined there were witches who didn't want children but would love his nieces and nephews.

Only, suddenly, Percy was invited to Wood family events. Oliver left his gear strewn all over Percy's flat and didn't care when Percy accidentally used his toothbrush. Oliver vaguely hinted about them finding a place together but never outright said it due to Percy making his thoughts on the matter clear before they actively started dating.

Oliver got on well with his family, and when an argument managed to erupt between them and Percy, he carefully stayed out of it. He didn't understand Percy's problem with alcohol exactly, but he managed to help anyways.

None of this was what Percy wanted- wanting to live with Oliver, feeling a connection to Oliver, imagining a future where they went to one another's parents' house and had parents over at theirs and laughter and fights and finally feeling as if he found someone who was worth everything. It wasn't in the plan, and he couldn't find anything wrong with the plan he made when he was younger.

He wanted someone who understood the books he read rather than someone who couldn't care less about the deeper literary meaning but wanted him to read to them when they were had sore muscles and stretched out on the bed, their body pressed against his lower side. He wanted someone who had a firm grasp on politics rather than someone who laughed as he argued with their parents. He wanted someone who hadn't learned to read his moods better than he had, who knew when it was okay if someone handed him a drink and when to make excuses and make sure nothing alcoholic passed his lips, because his issues with alcohol were his problem to handle and he didn't want anyone else involved in it.

Most of all, he didn't want someone who made him so thrilled and terrified in equal measures. He didn't want someone who made him happy to attend Quidditch matches. He didn't want someone who brought out his sarcastic side, which he's always tried to keep firmly to himself. He didn't want someone who he could just look at and know what to do when they were sad or angry or bouncing from too much sugar.

Percy wasn't quite sure what to do, but he knew, eventually, he'd find a way to get back to his plan.

Except, then, he was at the library, and there was a pretty witch with curly hair and dark blue eyes. They found themselves talking for over an hour. She was working at the Leaky Cauldron and hoping to teach potions once she got her potioneering license. They talked about their time at Hogwarts, how the war had affected them, and debated politics and literature. When family came into the mix, she told him she still lived with her widowed mum and had made the decision never to have children due to the fact most of her family on both sides were squibs; however, she'd like to marry into a nice-sized family so that she could spoil her young in-laws rotten.

Then, she asked if he was seeing anyone, and technically, he and Oliver weren't serious. They'd agreed either of them could find someone else and break it off at any time. He knew he could honestly tell her he was casually seeing someone but would like to take her to dinner.

She was lovely, might be the person he had dreamed of since childhood, and all he could think about was how much it would hurt not to have breakfast with Oliver, not to walk down the street holding hands with him, to read to him when his muscles were sore.

And oh, this was what the book meant, wasn't it?

He told her about Oliver and asked if they could have lunch sometime, as he was short in the friend department.

Then, he flooed home, tried to figure out how exactly to handle this, wishing the book had told what to do when the realisation hit, and finally, climbed into bed, causing Oliver to shift and nudge closer to him.

In the morning, he took a deep breath and said, "Look, I had all these plans about love, and- I want this to be more serious. I think I might be falling in love with you."


End file.
